


simple emotions

by kyjr



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyjr/pseuds/kyjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You see him there, sitting at a small table, gentle sipping his coffee as he peruses his thick book. He's all the way over the other side of the library, but you know his features well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	simple emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted[ here](http://kyjr.livejournal.com/499.html#cutid1) and [ here.](http://kingdom-lights.livejournal.com/1876.html#cutid1)

 

You see him there, sitting at a small table, gentle sipping his coffee as he peruses his thick book. He's all the way over the other side of the library, but you know his features well - that copper hair; those lips; those brown eyes framed by those glasses

You want to go over there. So much. You stand up hurriedly, knocking over the books which were perched precariously on the edge of the table. The noise makes him look up, searching for the source of the commotion, and your courage fails you. Again.

You rush over to another section of the library, trying to hide between the science section and the art section. You can still see him - just - as he sits there with his unknown beauty. Your heart is still racing, and you tell it to be quiet. It doesn't listen.

He's come here every Saturday. He goes through the books, chooses one which sparks his interest, orders a coffee, and sits at the small table for two in the corner near the window. You wonder if he's even noticed you there, stalking him between the rows and rows of books. You know it's strange, to have this obsession about another man. But there is something about his beauty; his grace. And as soon as you see him there, you know that you want to know him. You want to know everything about him. You want to know why he chose that shirt to wear today; where he goes after his coffee is finished; why he never stays longer than two hours; why he never checks out the book he's reading.

He checks his watch just as you do, and you sigh in sync. You watch as he stands up and hands back the ceramic cup and saucer to the waitress who smiles thankfully. That was another thing he did. No matter what, he would never leave his plates on the table. He would always hand them back. You smile.

The same thing happens the week after, and the week after that. You tell yourself to stop it - he doesn't even know that you're there. But both your heart and your head tell you opposite. So you continue to watch his every move, making sure to duck your head as soon as it looks as though he's going to raise his head.

He puts his book away, and leaves without another word. You straighten up, realising that you have a lecture to get to. You put your own books away, and carry on.

One week was different. He walks in as usual, asks for his coffee. Instead of heading to the fiction section to look for a book, however, he heads your way, into the non-fiction. You panic. He's never come this way before. You try to look interested in the book you're reading, but unfortunately environmental science is not so good at holding your attention. You can feel your heart beating unnervingly fast, and you know you're breathing too heavily. You try to calm yourself, but it doesn't work.

He's at the music section, now. Only three rows away from yourself. You can see him clearer now that he's so close, and he's even more beautiful. The way he stands, with one arm crossed over his torso, finger lazily trailing across the spines of the books, makes you fall for him even more. Being able to hear his clothes rustling as he shifts slightly makes your heart beat stronger. You hear him make a noise of discontent.

The rustling becomes louder. You can hear his footsteps.You look away quickly. And then there's a shadow falling over your book. Barely able to keep your heart in your chest, you look up slowly, and meet his eyes for the first time in three years.

He's gazing down at you, and you fight the urge to swallow. And then he's talking in a voice deeper than you had expected. He looks at you questioningly, and you remember that you were meant to be listening. You shake your head as if to clear it of your thoughts, and apologise, asking him to repeat himself. You curse your shaking, stuttering voice as he asks his question again.

He wants to know where the art section is, and apologises for interrupting you. You wave your hand, telling him that you weren't really concentrating anyway, and he smiles. You feel your palms sweat and your breathing doesn't get any better. You stand up, acknowledging his surprised look with a smile of your own (even though it is shaky), and tell him to follow you. He apologises again, and you turn around, telling him not to worry about it - you needed to find a book there, anyway. Which was half true.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, and it's driving you crazy. The fact that he's so near to you, but you can't do anything about your racing heart. When you reach the section he's looking for, he bows and thanks you, saying that he's sorry for disturbing you. You laugh it off again, saying that it's absolutely fine. And it is, since you're allowed to see him at such a distance and not feel bad about it.

He turns to find his book, and so do you. Yours is in the science section, which is right opposite. Every so often, you turn sideways so you can just see him there, crouching on the ground and flipping through books. You want to ask him if he's an artist; if he's researching for something. But there goes that courage again.

During one of those rare times where you were actually paying attention to the books, you hear an uncertain noise behind you. You turn, and there he is, clutching a few art books to his chest. He thanks you once again. You tell him that really, it's fine. He nods, and starts to walk away. Your stomach drops. You don't want him to go away just yet. He turns, and awkwardly waves goodbye whilst still keeping a grip on the books he's checking out. You feel your face flush, and after you wave back and he turns to leave again, you hide your face in your hands.

The next week, you're sitting there again, at the same table. The scraping of a chair is heard across from you, but you pay it no heed. That was, until that same deep voice sounds out again, and you jerk your head up. It's him. He's thanking you for what you did yesterday. Again. You full out laugh this time, and he smiles at you. You tell him that you should hit him over the head with something for apologising so many times, and he laughs wholeheartedly. And then you realise that you're hopelessly in love with this man.

You chuckle awkwardly. He slides half a biscuit over to you, happily munching on the other half. With wide eyes you take it, and thank him. He smiles, and goes back to reading his art books. You can feel the warmth of his hand as it lies next to yours on the table, and you're acutely aware of his legs being so close to your own.

You watch as he runs a hand through his hair as he scribbles something down in a notebook. He glances up, and you blush as he catches your eye. He smiles, and says it's his book of ideas. You straighten up and look at him quizzically. He laughs. He explains that he writes songs, and you nod in understanding. You're dying to ask if you could hear something, or at least read it, but you leave it alone, because after all that time watching him, you know he's a very private person. He smiles at you, gazing at you with those soft eyes, and you have to duck your head again in case he sees your red face.

He asks what you do at university, and you quietly tell him that you're doing environmental science. You hear him nod, but you know he's still watching you, even with your head bowed. He asks if it's interesting. You say that it's alright, but it's nothing compared to writing music. He laughs quietly, telling you that he doesn't have the brains to do a course like you are. You jerk your head up at that, catching him off-guard, and almost shout at him that he's wrong. He raises his eyebrows, and looks around. You've attracted the attention of almost the entire library. You bow to everyone, apologising, and turn back to him. He's trying in vain to hold back a smile. Before you can stop yourself, you've hit him lightly over the head, and he's laughing again, eyes crinkling. You sit back down, and the two of you go back to reading.

Suddenly, he sits bolt upright. It's your turn now to look shocked at him. He's realised that neither of you know the other's name, and hurriedly introduces himself as Ueda Tatsuya. You like that name - it's soft and sweet. You tell him your name - Nakamaru Yuichi - and he smiles and nods, testing out the name on his tongue. You like the way he says your name.

And then he's standing again, bundling all of his things up into his arms. He says it was nice meeting you, and you say the same back. He smiles happily, and walks away.

You're both disappointed and happy at the same time. You wanted him to stay longer, but you're glad that you were able to speak to him - to finally know his name, after three years. You hope that he'll sit with you tomorrow, too, even though you managed to get nothing done at all. You're pretty sure that he's fared the same.

You hope that he'll come back the week after. You don't want to go back to stalking him between the bookshelves. You're running late today, and you run a hand through your short, ragged hair as you rush through the doors of the library. And there he is.

He's already sitting at your table. You can't help the massive smile which appears on your face. He looks up as the doors close behind you, and as he meets your eyes, he smiles back. Your stomach flips.

He clears his own papers from your side of the table as you near him, and you thank him as you slide into your seat. He passes you another biscuit half, and you look at him gratefully as you take it. You hadn't eaten since this morning. He asks if you're alright, and you nod, saying that it's been 'one of those days'. He nods in understanding. You thank him for the biscuit, and he says it's alright; that he's never been able to finish them anyway, and you both go back to reading.

You notice that he's writing in his notepad again, and even without looking up, he explains that he has to finish this song before the end of today, so that he can practice it. You nod, and as he goes back to fixing up notes here and there, you take a peek. You used to play piano, and you know the notes. From what you can gather, it's a ballad. You ask him, and he confirms. He distractedly asks you what the time is, and you answer. He yelps, jumping out of his chair and hastily gathering all his things together. He shouts a goodbye over his shoulder as he leaves, drawing the attention from some of the other people in there. You just smile. It's the first time he's actually said goodbye to you.

As you're about to actually get some study done, you notice a lonely black wallet sitting on your table. You pick it up and open it, and it turns out that it's his. You panic, and without a second thought, you're out those library doors. However, as soon as you hit the street, you can find no trace of him.

However, you refuse to give up, for once. You search through his wallet, trying to find some kind of hint which would show you where he would be. You suddenly find a student card and you check it. It's his. According to the card, he's learning music at the entertainment college three streets away.

You rush to your car, berating it for not starting straight away, and drive like a maniac until you reach the college. You stumble out of the car once it's parked, and run into the college, barely able to stop yourself in time to ask the woman at the counter where one Ueda Tatsuya would be. She tells you after typing his name into her computer, and gives you directions when you look at her blankly. You start running again, skidding around corners and hardly avoiding the people who are still in the corridors.

You burst into the room that you were told he would be in. You rest your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath, and look up. There are at least twenty other people there, all staring at you for your sudden entrance. Silence ensues.

Just as the lecturer is about to ask you what you're doing there, Ueda rushes out of the crowd, blabbering nonsense. They all turn to him, rolling their eyes. You stand up again, as he grabs your elbow and drags you out of the room into the corridor. You try not to stiffen at the touch.

He lets go of you once the door is shut again, and he looks at you incredulously. He asks you what you're doing there. So you tell him - from the moment you found the wallet, to the woman at the office, to the crowds you battled through. He looks angry, at the beginning, but by the end there's an amused smile ghosting his face.

He asks you where his wallet is, and with shaking hands you give it to him. He smiles gratefully, and thanks you with a small voice. You look up into his eyes, and suddenly the corridor is smaller. And then your courage escapes you again. You duck your head, shout a goodbye at him, and run, leaving him bewildered, but you don't care. Once you get back into your car, you just sit there for a while, clutching onto your chest as though your heart is going to leap out of it.

 

 

 >>><<<

 

The next week, as you sit there, he sits across from you again. He slides across another biscuit half, and you take it, making him smile. It's now like some sort of routine. You both study in silence for a while, the only sound being the turning of pages and scratching of pens.

You feel something on your hand. You look up, and his pale hand is wrapped around your own. You look at him with wide eyes, but he's not paying attention to you. His eyes are firmly fixated on the book in front of him, but you can see his face is as red as yours.

You tug on his hand, and he hesitantly raises his head. You smile at him, and he smiles back. You grip harder on his hand, and you go back to reading.

 

\--the end.


End file.
